


find a reason to stay

by grootmorning



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fix-It, Frank changes his mind, Hurt/Comfort, I have a lot of feelings, Karen is in the anger stage of grief, Post-Canon, Romance, Smut, kastle - Freeform, post-The Punisher Season 2, there's just a lot of feelings, they live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-13 23:36:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17497475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grootmorning/pseuds/grootmorning
Summary: Karen goes back to her life, and it's like Frank never re-entered it at all. It doesn't feel right that nothing should change when it felt like everything had changed for her. And then it changes again.





	1. one.

Karen Page was cold.

Not from the weather, not from the sidewalk that was currently biting into her feet as she stepped out of the cab that dropped her off right in front of the office. Not from the wind that blew past her as she took the steps into the building.

No, she was cold from the words that had burrowed deep within her and wouldn't leave.

_"I don't want to."_

Lie. It was a lie. Karen knew it, and Frank knew it. She saw it in his eyes, that he knew it was a lie. But he said it anyway. Not for his benefit, no, but for hers. He wanted her as far away from him as possible. 

Not because he didn't love her. Because of course he did. 

Of course he did. 

She may have made her living off words, but she didn't need them to fully realise what she knew deep in her gut to be the truth. It was in his eyes when he looked at her. His touch as he clung to her desperately in the waking throes of a nightmare that never seemed to end. The endless protection that he extended to her without question, without hesitation, without any self preservation. It was in the hitch of his breath as Karen had stepped closer to him in that hospital room. And the defeated look on his face as Amy had entered the room to tell them that they needed to go. 

But she felt cold anyway. Frank had made his choice.

And it wasn't her. 

Pushing open the door, Karen had hoped to quickly enter her office space to avoid any questions, but of course, Matt was still there, working on one of their cases as he always did nowadays. Karen winced internally. Matt would know, of course. Damn those senses.

"Karen?" His voice was soft, but it grated on her already frayed nerves.

She hummed non-committally, trying to side step him but he was there anticipating her actions as always. It was easier when he still pretended to be blind. Resigned, Karen sighed, letting him follow into her space where she rummaged in her coat closet for an extra pair of shoes that she knew was buried somewhere at the back. Letting the silence hang, Karen tugged the flats on tiredly. 

"Are you ... alright?" The question was hesitant. They both knew that Matt still saw her as someone that he needed to protect. He forgot sometimes, that she was fully capable of doing it herself, and slipped back into old habits. Sometimes Karen allowed the question. They were still friends after all. Other times, she wanted to throw something at him.

Karen shrugged. She knew he could tell that she did. At least these days it was nice not having to articulate everything to Matt. 

"You smell like the hospital," Matt followed up, tilting his head back towards the television which he had running in the background of the waiting area. 

_"According to the detective I spoke to, the unknown assailant rammed the ambulance, forcing it from the bridge before escaping. At this point, we don't know if this man was trying to free Frank Castle or assassinate him - "_

Matt turned back to her knowingly, the expression of mixed annoyance and sympathy irking her. The unspoken question hung in the air between them, heavy and stale, and Karen felt her stomach turn at the thought. The image of Frank, bloodied and bruised in the hospital bed, but clinging desperately to her hand floated to the forefront of her mind and she nearly choked. With a small wave of her hand, Karen quickly ushered Matt out and shut the door behind him. 

The cold remained.

-

Karen Page was exhausted.

She had thrown herself into her work to put Frank out of her mind. How long had it been? Three months? Four? Karen tried not to keep count. The number of days passing by did nothing to ease the cold that was inside her. All it did was add to the exhaustion, and the ache.

The ever present ache.

Billy Russo had been found dead shortly after Frank and her last spoke. She'd bet anything she had that he had something to do with it. But she couldn't prove it. 

She wasn't Karen Page, journalist for the Bulletin anymore. Ellison could have helped but she didn't want to drag him into it again. Not after what had happened to him the last time.

And her position as the lead investigator for Nelson, Murdock and Page was only a suitable excuse for so long around the same people before it got old.

Karen knew better than to do so but she waited anyway. She waited for some sign. Anything. A hint that he might still see some sort of future for them now that what seemed to be the last remnant of his war was now dead and gone. 

And was met with silence.

She wasn't sure what else she had expected, really.

In one of her more desperate moments, she wondered if she should talk to Dinah. Just barely stopping short of picking up the phone and dialling the number she knew, Karen realised what a headcase she would appear to be, and how wretched it would make her look, fishing for crumbs around a dead man. Karen stowed her phone in her bag again, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her sweatpants, digging her nails into the fleshy bits of her palm to help her feel something. Anything. 

She would not be that woman.

Frank had made it pretty clear that she wasn't what he wanted in life. He wanted a war.

And he kept finding more wars to fight.

The stories were sparse and seemingly unconnected. But Karen had his scent now, and it was plainly obvious to her. Death of gangs, massacres of cartels, complete dismantling of smuggling rings. The telltale signs were all there. All dead, all accounted for. Every innocent was spared and freed, and refused to speak anything of their protector except that he had saved them. The many shell casings that littered the ground of the crime scene. The brutal ruthlessness with which he hunted down every last target of the night, taking them down mercilessly and with skill.

Karen knew Frank well. And by association, knew his work well.

Days and weeks passed, and the sign she hoped for still didn't come. Karen buried herself in cases for Nelson, Murdock and Page. Oh, she saw the worried glances Foggy threw her way, and the disapproval emanating from Matt as he folded his lips together tightly every time he found her working late in the office past a reasonable hour. They'd even gotten Marci to talk to her once. That had been pleasant with the multiple bottles of alcohol Marci had brought to her office. But nothing worked. Because they didn't understand. 

She wasn't pushing herself too hard. Nor was she simply seeking justice for the many people they represented.

That wasn't it at all.

Karen was running away from herself and the loneliness that waited for her back in her apartment. 

She had been alone most of her life. Her father; he'd left her alone in this world. Her mother didn't have a choice. But Kevin, oh god, Kevin. She was the cause of it. 

At the end of it all, Karen was still alone.

And alone she stayed.

In the dark and with an ache that wouldn't go away. 

-

Karen Page was furious. 

The utter shock that had filled her down to her toes as she had tiredly pulled her door open only to find Frank Castle standing there with a bunch of white flowers in his hand had dissipated very quickly and given way to blinding anger.

Now? Now he thought she was worth coming back for?

She should shut the door in his worried face.

But she didn't. How could she? Her fingers tightened on the wood, clenching so hard her knuckles turned white. Folding her lips tightly, Karen stared at him, almost shaking a little with the amount of anger that was coursing through her veins.

Frank's own hands squeezed the flowers before relaxing minutely, repeating the action as he looked at her, waiting for her cue if he should just turn right around and leave.

_"You gotta walk away now, Karen."_

The blood roared in her ears as she took a small step back, back into the safety of her apartment, back into the quiet bubble of existence that she'd carved out for herself since the people she cared about kept insisting on leaving. Was she making a mistake? Karen wasn't sure, but her feet were already moving on their own accord before she could stop herself.

Taking it as an invitation, Frank walked in hesitantly after her, closing the door quietly behind him. They stood facing each other, not really in the living room but not in the hallway either. Karen couldn't - wouldn't let him take a step further. If he did, if she did, it was like giving him permission to enter her life and to rip her in two all over again. Her arms crossed around her middle, holding herself together, covering the ache and the cold that had been growing ever since she left that hospital, barefoot and alone.

Someone had to say something to break the stifling silence.

"Nice to see you're alive, Frank."

If he squeezed the flowers anymore, they'd be permanently damaged and never be saved again. His voice was gruff as he spoke slowly, "Yeah. Can't kill me that easily."

It was a well known fact. But it still scared Karen every time she thought of him lying in that hospital bed - two now, she's seen him in two - wounded and weak. At a loss for anything else to do, and with nothing left to say, she thrust out a hand for the flowers, which he placed gingerly in hers, before she stalked off to the kitchen to fill a vase with water for them. Of course he'd gotten her white roses. 

That motherfucker. 

The growing realisation that Frank was here in her apartment, patiently waiting where she'd left him, staring a hole into her back bore its weight down on her and Karen hung her head heavily. She breathed through her nose, trying to calm her racing heart. She was not hallucinating. He was actually here. Her fingers dug into the side of the kitchen sink, the cool metal seemingly searing into her skin and reminding her where she was in the present. 

Frank Castle was in her apartment.

Composing herself, Karen took the flowers to the window, placing them gently on the sill. Right where they should be. She turned back to face Frank, who was still standing in the same position, unwilling to move and upset Karen again. His forehead was creased in a gentle frown, and he was worrying one thumb with another. The picture of nervousness. 

Pain radiated from where she'd folded her arms tightly around herself again. It was an unconscious defence mechanism at this point. Sometimes she didn't even know she was doing it and Foggy would have to pull her hands away from herself when they were out. Karen tipped her head back, catching his attention before speaking, "Guess I never know when I'll need those again, huh?"

"Karen, I - "

"So where are you off to this time, Frank?"

"Huh?"

She let out a small bitter laugh, "Should I be expecting you to stay?" Watching him as his throat worked, swallowing as he struggled to find words, Karen barrelled on. She was not giving him a chance to speak. If she did, she might be lost again. "You made it pretty clear that I was not what you wanted."

_"You are so goddamned stubborn..."_

Damn right, she was stubborn. Karen was stubborn, and petty, and she was tired of people leaving her.

The ache within her grew and the cold bloomed out of it even as she looked at Frank. He stood there, simply, in a dark shirt, jeans and combat boots. As if she didn't see everything she could have had if he had stayed. As if she didn't see a future. 

She would have taken anything he'd given her, if he'd deigned to give her anything at all. The request was simple. Karen wasn't asking him to marry her. She wasn't that naive to think that Frank could ever settle for a domestic life ever again. All she wanted was for him to stay, to give her the chance to love him.

But she didn't even have that before he was snatched away from her again.

Twisting his hands nervously before him, Frank took a tentative step forward, waiting to see if she would berate him for it. When she didn't, he took another, bringing him to the centre of her living room. His eyes were trained more on the roses next to her than on her person, nervously flitting up to catch her eye for a bit before moving off again. 

"I shouldn't have - "

Karen cut him off, "No, you shouldn't have."

The shock from her interruption made him bristle, and his hackles were up immediately. "Didn't even give me a chance to finish, huh."

"Because I don't think I want to hear what you want to say," Karen briefly wondered if she should take the roses and throw it at him. She was so angry, she felt like she would have the strength to. But Frank would probably just duck easily anyway. "You certainly didn't want to hear me out."

"Look, that was different. I had the kid, people coming after us - "

"I know Billy Russo's dead."

That stopped Frank in his tracks a little. The pain entered his eyes again, Karen could see it, and she hated herself a little for it. "Yeah? Heard that, didn't you?"

"Yeah," anger and hurt filled her again, and reminded her why she was close to yelling and close to tears. "So why didn't you come back?" The "Were you hurt?" slipped out before she could stop herself, and Karen winced at the small moment of weakness. The tiny part of her also clung to the fact that maybe he was too hurt to come back to her. It reminded her that she still cared. 

Oh god, she cared so fucking much. 

Frank shrugged at the question. They both knew the answer. He was always hurt. This time though, he looked better than she's ever seen him. Almost free of bruises save one that was blooming near his temple. No cuts too. He looked good. Karen hated that he looked so good. It made it harder to hate him.

Not that she ever would hate him for real. 

She could never.

"I was taking care of the kid. And - and some other stuff."

Before she knew it, her mouth opened and let loose words that were tinged with four months of anger bottled up within her that had been previously drowned with bottles of cheap beer and wine.

-

Karen Page was fucking beautiful.

Even when she was yelling at him with a sheen of tears in her eyes, and the tell tale wobble of her lip that meant she was close to crying. She was always one to wear her emotions on her face. Whether she was mad at him, sad or happy, Frank could always tell. 

It was a gift that she had, not being able to hide her emotions. Karen felt a lot of emotions in that small frame of hers, and she wasn't afraid to show it. 

He always knew that she cared. How could he not?

It was in her fierce determination to save him, to keep him from the police from the FBI, from anybody who might have wanted to put him away forever. It was in her ability to find him every time he landed some place unsavoury, and to extend a hand to keep him from going under. Her eyes, that damned bright blue that haunted his dreams, always shone with heartfelt emotion each time she was around him, even though she should be turning on her heel and running away. She all but told him that she loved him in that hospital room.

Would it have been better if she had said the exact words? Or worse.

In the space that Frank was in at that point, he didn't know. Would he have stopped his war if Karen Page had told him that she loved him? Probably not, but he would have hesitated a damn second and thought about it.

Shit. Frank had really thought about it since then.

She was in between yelling about how he needed to stop shutting her out of his life and how she was so mad that she didn't even know if he was dead or alive for a good month after she walked out of that hospital room before something inside Frank snapped.

He wasn't sure if it was the light from outside hitting her hair just right, making her look like an ethereal angel, or if it was that first tear finally slipping down her cheeks as she couldn't hold them back anymore. Maybe it was the way she kept her arms around her middle, like she was holding herself together, keeping herself from falling apart again.

But Frank crossed the few steps between him and her in seconds, taking her face in his large hands and pressing his lips to hers, just for two seconds, and pouring all his longing for her into that kiss. She was so small, his hands easily covered the sides of her face, framing it and tugging her to meet him. Her lips were soft, so soft, and trembling as he kissed her. When his lips touched hers, there was a roaring in his chest that simply wouldn't stop. Releasing her then, he took a step back.

Did he really just do that? Frank wasn't sure if he was waiting for her to kiss him back or for a slap in the face.

Karen blinked those large eyes up at him in shock. Was she always just slightly shorter than him without her heels? Frank had never really noticed before. There was always something happening, something urgent that needed his attention. A bomb, a mission, police outside the door.

But now, there was nothing. There was just Karen, looking up at him uncertainly, her lips reddened, a slight flush on her cheeks. Her hands had loosened around her waist, slipping in her stunned state. One came up to press at her lips in that familiar movement he'd now associated with her. 

Should he tell her that he was sorry? Or that he loved her? Should he tell her how it felt like tearing his own gut out when he raised the gun to shoot Billy in the heart? How it felt so easy and so hard at the same time? Or should he talk about how he had to put the kid on a bus to Florida because it felt like he was slipping back into complacency?

Maybe he should tell her that Karen Page made Frank Castle feel like he could have an after.

Raising a hand again to cup her face gingerly, he almost hoped that she would turn into his touch, and marvelled when she actually did. Her shoulders slumped and he felt the bottom of his stomach flip, like he was seventeen again.

Just like that, Karen's anger left her at his touch. 

If she were a lesser woman, she'd berate herself for giving in so easily. But she wasn't afraid to admit that she had been so lonely, and waiting so long for him to turn to her that she simply accepted it. All she wanted was for him to give her an opening to love him. Karen's dreamed about him more times than she could count. This felt nothing like it.

"I'm staying," his voice was rough, grating in comparison to Karen's soft "What?"

"I want to stay with you."

With that, he leaned his forehead against hers, praying that she wouldn't shove him away. It was a movement that was so uniquely theirs. So intimate, it was theirs. Their version of a hug, a kiss, their version of "I see you."

And just like that, she was lost again.

When her hands came up to ghost over his shoulders, pressing into his collarbone and drifting down to grip desperately onto his arms, Frank knew Karen saw him too.

They swayed for a little bit on the spot, as they usually did. 

The drop of moisture on his palm told him Karen was crying, and his thumb moved before he knew it to brush the tears away. His heart ached in his chest, a painful thing that reminded him he was still alive. But warmth bloomed out of it as she whispered with a soft disapproving, "I'm still really angry with you."

Frank chuckled, his other arm snaking around her waist to draw her in closer into him, "Yes, ma'am."

Her full body shiver made him push his chest out further, peacocking just a little that he could make Karen Page come undone. That this beautiful woman would trust him, a man with blood on his hands, to love her, to take care of her. That she needed him to live.

Taking a few steps back and pulling her along with him, Frank felt behind him for her couch with a boot heel, dropping onto it and settling her in his lap. With a soft sigh, Karen went easily, tucking her head into the nook between his shoulder and his neck. 

She was so tired. Frank could feel it. The way her body simply sagged against his, and the grip with which she clung to his shirt. The last time he'd seen her like this, they'd just survived a bomb blast together. 

His heart ached again, and he rested one hand on her back, wrapping the other around her to tug her closer to him.

There would be time to talk about it. Time to take care of her.

He wasn't going anywhere. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there was just too much yelling for them to work things out properly but they'll talk in the next chapter :) what do you think?  
> p/s: idea for matt's sensing the hospital was suggested by [marie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlessxriver) <3 
> 
> also i am still in so much pain guys. i haven't recovered from s2e11. come say hi?
> 
> tumblr: [here](http://ltfrankcastle.tumblr.com)  
> twitter: [here](http://twitter.com/ltfrankcastie)


	2. two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they finally get some time to talk

Frank Castle was content.

For once, the voices in his head had dulled to a low murmur, as he held Karen in his arms. They were just sitting on the couch in silence, just sitting. It amazed him how normal it felt. He had somehow shrugged his jacket off and tossed it behind the couch, somewhere. He'd find it when it was important.

His thumb stroked over the soft material of her skirt, resting over her thighs, just trying to soothe. The pure anger and frustration that he had elicited from her told her exactly how deeply he had hurt her in that hospital room. He knew it even that, but it was just settling uncomfortably in his gut. The soft feeling of her nuzzling drowsily into her neck radiated warmth from his shoulder into the rest of his body. And just like that, Frank felt like he could sit here forever.

Karen still hadn't let go of her death grip on the sleeves of his shirt, clinging onto him like she was afraid he might disappear at any moment. To be fair, he couldn't blame her, and his heart ached again at the thought.

Just then, she stirred a little, raising her head a little to mumble, "I'm still really angry with you."

Without warning, Frank chortled, stifling it a little as she jabbed at him with her nails. It wasn't the time or place to laugh really, but he was just so entertained by her insistence that she was still mad at him that it just slipped out. Karen raised her head fully this time, fixing him with a disapproving stare. 

"Are you really laughing at me?"

"No, ma'am." He was, obviously, but he wasn't going to tell her that to her face, was he? Drawing on all the training he'd ever had, Frank schooled his expression into a mask of neutrality. 

Sitting up in his lap so she could cup his face with both hands and turn him to look at her, Karen wrinkled her nose as she stared at him, "You have no right to laugh, mister. You're in deep trouble."

"Yes, ma'am," Frank folded his lips together primly, nodding as best as he could with the firm grip she had on him. His hands moved to rest on her waist, a natural movement for him since all he wanted to do was keep her close to him. Her waist was so thin, too thin to be healthy. One of the first things he would have to do would be to feed her. Some of that healthy pho soup would be good for her to regain some meat on her bones.

For a few moments, Karen simply studied him, her eyes roving across his face. Her fingers brushed across his temple, where she had last seen a bullet carve a deep groove into his flesh. She pressed gently onto his cheeks, where he last had gashes from fists and guns. The skin was now unmarked, unblemished, and Karen was touching him like she'd seen him for the first time. 

Closing his eyes, Frank let her touch him, revelling in the feeling of her skin on his. He breathed in her faint perfume and scent, letting it bring to mind all the other times he was close enough to take her in, to be with her. He let it settle in his mind, in his memory, and hope that it would imprint on his brain forever and ever. He never wanted to forget it. 

"Like what you see?" He asked gruffly after a bit, opening his eyes to find Karen wrinkling her nose. "That a no?"

"I'm just not used to it," Karen shifted her hands to link around his shoulders, resettling her head onto his chest comfortably. The rhythmic stroking of his thumbs on whatever part of her he could reach resumed, and Frank felt his trigger finger abate in favour of soothing her with his touch. "Where did you go, Frank?"

Her whisper was so soft, tentative, tinged with countless nights of loneliness and resignation. His hold on her tightened momentarily, reminding both of them that he was there now. But in Frank's mind, he was reliving the nightmare of Pilgrim, Billy, losing the kid, all over again.

The sound of his throat clearing broke the silence, and he told her all of it. Once he started, it seemed like he couldn't stop. Karen would always be his foil, he could never hide anything from her. And she would know the right thing to say. She always did. It was like her superpower. 

When he'd finished, he barrelled on to what Dinah had offered him overseas, to the job he'd taken upon himself cleaning up the streets from the filth that plagued it. But it wasn't enough. It never would be enough to fill the hole that was left in it.

It was a mission. All the bodies he'd left behind were a mission, nothing more, nothing less. 

Frank needed more.

He knew that now.

He needed Karen. Karen made him feel like he was living, like he was doing more than just flitting from day to day waiting for the next gang to take out. How would he even begin to tell her? He faltered then, his lips stilling on the words. 

Just under his jaw, Karen pressed a kiss to the skin there, humming a little. The simple touch sent sparks into his skin, travelling into his chest and jolting his heart there. Frank could literally feel his heart speeding up. 

_Easy there, Marine._

He couldn't help it. Karen was everything. Even when he faltered, she understood. Without words, she knew. He had never told her what she meant to him, not in those words.

But she always knew. 

His grip on her tightened again as they lapsed into silence. Coughing a little to clear the emotion from his throat, Frank took the chance to look around her apartment. If they were going to do this, she would need better security on her doors and windows. Frank would not have the shitstains he cleared from the streets following him back here without taking precautions. He wasn't going to put Karen in danger again.

Maybe they would leave that conversation for when they were more settled. Speaking of which...

"Was I blind from the head wound, or were you barefoot in the hospital?"

She laughed a little, her fingers digging into his shoulder as she recalled the events of the day. "Traded them in to free you."

"You what - "

"It's a long story," her fingers were tracing random designs up and down his arm, bumping a little over where the material of his shirt bunched together, reaching his wrist where the sleeves ended before resting a little and resuming their path back up his arm. Those few seconds where she touched bare skin, Frank swore she could hear his heart speeding up with the small smile that graced her face. 

Frank shifted his position, adjusting her to sit more comfortably in his lap, "I've got time."

-

Frank Castle was distressed.

Listening to Karen catching him up on everything that she thought he needed to know since they had parted ways in that accursed elevator in such an indifferent tone got his trigger finger twitching again. 

He needed his guns. He needed something. Anything. Any item that he could use as a weapon.

Anything that could be put into his hand so he could take a swing at the first scumbag that had the misfortune to cross his path.

Wilson fucking Fisk of all people. The terror that she must have lived through. 

And a mad man who had better accuracy than him or Red. Shit, he was going to have an aneurysm in her apartment. 

His trembling must have become noticeable, because steady hands covered his, stilling him. Looking up, Frank found Karen staring at him intently, with a worried look in her eye, "You okay?"

He wanted to yell. Karen Page was asking if he was okay. Karen, who had been shot at, kidnapped, nearly killed, thrown out on her ass to face reporters, police, mad murderers and power hungry mob bosses. She was asking if he was okay.

Suddenly, he felt like he could see all the blood of everyone he'd ever killed on his hands. 

The sound of her calling his name brought him back to the present, and stopped him from seeing red in his eyes. Frank blinked hard, clearing the haze of imagination from his view to find Karen gazing at him, the worry clear in her eyes. "Was it something I said?"

All this time, he was simply caught up in his own head and what he needed. Driving halfway across this bloody country to find himself. Find himself. Frank nearly snorted. It was bullshit, that was what it was. He didn't truly find himself again until he was back in New York with the people who knew him. Sure, he found the kid. But the kid was only part of it.

She thought it was something she said. That she had upset him somehow. When in reality, he was so angry at himself for not realising what he had here. What he needed was to be back here, back where he knew people needed him, accepted him,  _saw him_. 

His mouth moved uselessly, opening and closing a few times, but the words wouldn't come. Shaking his head, Frank saw Karen's shoulders relax just a fraction at the movement, but her hand rose to tilt his face to look at her. She always knew him, knew when he was running away and what he was running away from. "What is it then?"

She saw through him deep into his soul.

The swirling emotions in his gut nearly choked him. The fear that he could have returned to New York with the kid and Madani in tow to clean up all the PIlgrim shit, and never knowing that Karen Page could have been lying cold in a grave somewhere. And Frank wouldn't even have known. Because he had made up his mind not to contact her the minute his boots touched the ground and he felt like he was home. He was a fucking idiot. "You could've - when I wasn't - and I didn't even want to - ," his throat closed up. Frank's whole body shuddered at the thought.

He couldn't go down that path. He just couldn't.

"Hey. Hey, it's fine. I'm fine. I'm okay."

Bringing her closer to rest his forehead against hers, Frank took a second to breathe. To breathe her in.

"You almost weren't," he mumbled.

Karen exhaled, "But I am." Her hands moved slowly from his jaw to the sides of his neck, holding on. Her thumbs drew designs into his skin.

In any other circumstances, he would never let himself be vulnerable there. It was the most dangerous part of the body. An arm movement, or a simply twist, you could be asphyxiated, choked, your neck snapped or any other manner of devastating results. 

In an unusual display of emotion, Frank tilted his head, enjoying the feeling of her fingers lightly scratching at the back of his neck, through the short hairs there. It helped to assuage the overwhelming feelings of guilt and unease. He had no idea why. It was probably just the fact that it was Karen's touch.

The rest of it slowly dissipated as Karen sat up, leaning over him. Her fingers pressed into his skin into a way that could only be described as tender, so could the expression with which she was watching him. "It's not your fault," she whispered. "Not everything is your fault."

The many conversations they had wherein Frank had voiced his guilt over what had happened to his family came to mind. He nearly choked again, thinking of it. Karen knew, Karen remembered. Karen knew exactly that that was what he was thinking about.

This woman.

_This woman._

Coming back in, Karen traced his lips with her finger tips, her own just a breath away. It was a breath that he sorely needed because he felt like he couldn't inhale on his own. not when Karen was more important than air in his lungs right now. 

He met her halfway, swallowing the small cry of satisfaction she made when they kissed again. 

 -

Frank Castle was in love with this woman.

He was pretty sure about that. 

It wasn't because as their kiss deepened, Karen had hiked her skirt up high on her hips, slung a leg across his thighs to sit astride him, reaching down again to kiss him again urgently. It wasn't because of her hands, desperate to touch, moving across his shoulders and his back, never daring to leave more than an inch off his skin for fear that he might disappear. 

No, it was more the fact that every inch of his body was screaming at him to both stay and to run at the same time right now, and yet Frank knew for damn sure that he'd rather kiss Karen Page and die in the process than give in to any other thing his war-ridden body wanted right now.

She was all he needed. Ever wanted. 

Everything.

His large hands nearly dwarfed her face, and he was so afraid that he might hurt her. But when his palms cupped her cheeks, Karen let out a shuddering gasp of his name, and to him, it sounded like heaven.

His other arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her steady, keeping her upright even as she pressed against him. If Frank wasn't already seated with his back firmly against the couch, Karen would have tipped the both of them over. 

Karen kissed like a woman drowning.

She would tell him later that he kissed her as if he was seeking salvation from her lips. Karen wouldn't be wrong there. 

Months. It had been months, since they'd spoken, touched, anything. It had been months before that as well. It seemed like there would always be months in between the times they would get to meet. Fate was a cruel thing. 

Would it be months again after this? Frank was going to make sure it wouldn't have to be, ever again.

All of it, the longing, the pining, the emotions, the love; it'd never gone away. It had been simply been kept inside under a strict determination and sheer force of will. But there was nothing to stop them now.

Frank let his hand drop to her hip, marvelling that he was being allowed to do this, to run a hand across her thigh. He let a thumb drift to the seam of her thighs, applying just that little bit of pressure. 

Karen let out a sharp cry, her own hand falling onto his to stay him from moving. "Frank," she whispered against his lips, chasing after him as he tried to pull away to look at her. 

She looked wrecked, her eyes rimmed red from the earlier tears that she wouldn't let fall, but now only had desire in them. "Frank," her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe, her hand bearing her weight onto his, trying to relieve the ache between her legs.

She wanted him. 

It was still a mystery to him.

Nosing at her neck, Frank slowly let himself enjoy this, bit by bit. He let himself mouth at her skin, even scrape his teeth gently over an exposed collarbone. 

Her slim arm curled around his neck, holding him in place as Frank fought to unbutton her blouse, cursing in the process. Karen shook a little with laughter, and then with need, when Frank had to use his other hand to keep from simply ripping the buttons off. 

Only three buttons had been released when Frank either had enough or decided it was sufficient. His strong arm returned to her waist, holding her still, while the other reached in reverently into her bra to take her breast out. Frank kissed her nipple gently, eyes closed as he listened to her moan and felt her thighs shake, before taking her into his mouth. 

Karen's arm clenched involuntarily, nearly crushing him to her as she choked on her last breath. If you had asked her what she thought she would be doing that night twelve hours ago, she most certainly would not have said, "Straddling Frank Castle on my couch with my skirt around my hips, my panties wet, and my blouse open with him fondling my breasts."

Even now, she was sure she was dreaming.

And then she was brought sharply back when Frank growled, the animalistic sound making the hairs on the back of her neck stand and her belly go lax. He was fighting with her skirt then, and she moved shakily to help him.

Thank God she picked a wraparound. Shaky fingers picked at the fastenings, and it took her two tries to get it free before letting the clothing simply fall away from her.

Her head fell back, her mouth opening in a silent moan as Frank pressed the entire heel of his hand to her core, over her underwear. Karen couldn't even be embarrassed at how wet she was. There was no room for it, not with the overwhelming need and desperation that was suffusing her entire body right now.

By now, she was rocking in his lap against his hand, palming at her other breast while Frank freed the other to give it some attention as well. 

Raising his head to kiss her again, Frank grinned wolfishly against her mouth, muffling her desperate keen as his fingers pushed aside her underwear to slip inside her. His own pants felt uncomfortably tight, but he wanted, no  _needed_ , to see Karen come apart before he even let himself do so. 

That was all he wanted.

To push Karen over that blessed edge.

Hauling her closer with one hand, thumbing at her clit with the other even as his fingers crooked inside her, Frank watched, studied, and learnt all of Karen's expressions of pleasure. Every cry, every shake, every plea, every dig of fingers into his shoulders. 

When she pulled at him to pay attention to her neck again, Frank gladly obeyed.

Karen struggled to push her hair away out of her face, shaking it messily out of her eyes but only succeeded it messing it up even more when Frank's bite to her neck made her throw her head back again. She wanted to see him. 

She wanted to see Frank.

"Frank," Karen's voice was soft, barely above a whisper, so close she was.

He always heard her, "Come on, Karen." 

With another swipe of his tongue over the bite mark and with another flick of his wrist, he coaxed her over the edge, watching her come undone choking on the scream that she tried to keep down. 

Drawing her back to him, Frank kissed her messily, his tongue flicking out to taste her lips again. Karen was still coming down from her high in a daze, her hand still gripping onto his shoulders so tightly she was sure she was leaving bruises. But she mustered the energy to catch his bottom lip between her teeth, putting some pressure on it.

"That's for leaving me again," she said with a tired smile as he pulled back, wrinkling his nose at the sudden burst of pain. 

Frank snorted, the expression in his eyes fond, "I'll take it."  _I'll take anything you give me._

Unusually bold after an orgasm, Karen tried to hold his gaze, ignoring the cool air washing over her exposed breasts and legs. Her chest heaved and she watched with no small amount of satisfaction as his eyes flicked downwards before back up to her face again. "You'll take a lot more than that, Marine."

"That a promise?" The wolfish expression returned, a hint of gleam in his eyes. It was predatory, and it made Karen shiver. A bone deep shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.

"That depends on you."

"Well then, guess I'll do my best," Frank surged to his feet, leaving Karen to yelp and cling to him. He nearly snorted, like he would drop her. He had walked miles and miles carrying equipment, guns and supplies in the desert ten times heavier than Karen. Heaven itself could not have compelled him to drop her. 

"Wha - Frank!"

"I already said I'll do my best," Frank strode to her bedroom, putting her gently down and making quick work of his shirt and boots. 

Karen lifted herself to her elbows, watching breathlessly as he placed his hands on his belt buckle, eyeing her like she was a feast and he was a starving man. 

She was always good with words, and she knew exactly how to describe what she wanted to be done to her.

Karen wanted to be  _ravaged_ by Frank. 

Oh, and if the tension that he held in his shoulders as he crawled onto the bed over her, and the way his arms shook as he touched her was any indication, Frank was not going to hold back either.

She let her legs fall open, letting him settle between her exposed thighs. "Give me your best shot," Karen tilted her chin up, a small show of defiance.

Frank laughed, a throaty sound that had her scraping her nails down his back, "Yes, ma'am." 

-

Frank Castle was here. 

Waking in a warm bed with a lightly snoring Karen in his arms was an experience that he thought he was never going to have in this lifetime. Nor was last night. During the times when he was honest with himself, Frank felt that he should disappear from her life and stay that time. But over and over again, he felt the pull to go to Karen like a big ass magnet that would not quit. 

The faint scent of her shampoo lingered in her hair, and Frank couldn't help himself but press his face closer to inhale it. 

It felt like inhaling a sense of peace.

Her hair fell to the side as Karen moved in her sleep, revealing the large love bite he'd left on her neck last night. Peace melded with smugness, and Frank indulged himself by letting a finger run across the mark on her skin.

The feeling curled around his insides, filling it with warmth. It finally settled somewhere between his sternum and his lower belly, coiling around slowly. If you had to make him describe it, it felt like a kitten curling up against him and purring contentedly.

The purring kitten grew into a large contented yet proud lion as Karen stirred, turning in his arms to smile, pleased that he'd stayed. 

"Hey," she rested a hand over his heart, applying just the slightest bit of pressure to remind him that this was real. She was real. They were actually here in the present.

"Hey."

She anchored him.

"You stayed?" He wondered he should be hurt at the small tone of surprise in her voice, but he guessed that was his fault too.

"You asked me to stay," Frank said simply, after thinking for a bit on how to express the depth and complexity of the various emotions he was feeling right then. How many times had she asked him to stay throughout all the shit they'd been through together. Countless times. Way too many times. "So I stayed." There weren't words invented that were meaningful enough for him to say to her. "I keep my word."

Arms slipped around him as well, as Karen pressed her face to the shirt she'd lent him to sleep in. Frank rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. He let his fingers run through her hair, over and over again, liking the way the light blonde strands felt against his callused fingers. The easy way they were lying in bed was so different from their need for each other last night, but both felt right. Just being with Karen felt right.

"What day is it?"

"Sunday," the breath of air from when she spoke tickled, and he shifted positions. When Karen whined lightly, tightening her grip to keep him from moving too much, the lion roared proudly. 

It was ridiculous. It wasn't even that big a thing. Just the fact that Karen was happy that he stayed, wanted him close all the time, with her. It was ... astounding.

But then again, she always was.

"Breakfast?" He said, thinking of a big plate full of pancakes, sausages, eggs and hash. Anything he could make with whatever he could find in her kitchen to feed her with. To take care of her with.

Karen rested her chin against his chest, blinking large eyes crusted with sleep up at him. He'd never seen anything quite so spectacular. 

"You buying?" She replied, thinking that he wanted to leave and get some diner coffee and a walk to stretch his legs.

"Cooking, actually," Frank shrugged as her expression grew incredulous. "I kinda like doing it. Sometimes," he amended as she giggled. "I'm not gonna turn into some big time chef or anything."

"How domestic."

"Yeah?" The word conjured up faded images of a nice house with a picket fence, a dog barking in the background and laughter filling it. A small chill settled onto his shoulders. The spark in Frank's eyes faded a little bit.

Of course Karen had noticed. Her fingers squeezed his sides, bringing him back silently. She said nothing about his distraction, and continued on like nothing had happened, "Eggs?"

"A mountain of them, if you want," his voice turned rough, swallowing the emotion as quickly as it had risen up. 

"What else?"

"Anything you want."  _How else could he express his gratefulness at all she had done? All he could do was just little things until he made it up to her._

The answer nearly stopped his heart. 

Karen nearly blinded him with the brightness of her smile, chasing away the last wisps of darkness that lurked at the edges of his mind, "You?"

It really was that simple. 

Pressing his lips to her temple, squeezing his eyes shut, Frank revelled in the small satisfied sigh that always escaped her when they touched.

"For as long as you want me."

"I'll always want you."

"Then I'll always stay."

"Just so you know, I'm still mad at you."

Frank laughed out loud, moving to kiss her forehead even as she conjured up an expression of fake anger, "If you say so."

"And you'll have to make it up to me, like a lot." Karen faltered a little then, her expression turning pensive, and just a little afraid, "Okay?"

"Okay."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm ashamed that it took me almost a month to complete it but i am finally happy with it and i hope you are too
> 
> here's to all our kastle hopes and dreams
> 
> tumblr: [here](http://ltfrankcastle.tumblr.com)  
> twitter: [here](http://twitter.com/ltfrankcastie)


End file.
